First Love
by larc501fan
Summary: Everyone must play the games of Court intrigue and face the repercussions of their actions. Mary and Francis deal with their feelings for each other and Bash and Olivia. Meanwhile the pagans' wrath puts all of them in danger. (Continues after 1x05 as an alternate 1x06 story.) Frary, bonus Greith, slight Mash, all characters. Romance/Drama/Suspense/Horror.
1. Chapter 1

Aylee entered the drawing room and looked nervously around. The ladies of the Court sat at various tables and couches, occupying their time with reading, chatting, cards, and other diverting activities. The Queen, sitting at her usual table with her ladies-in-waiting, caught Aylee's eyes and surreptitiously gave the tiniest nod. It was time.

Aylee bit her lip and walked to the circle of plush chairs where her friends were playing a round of Trump. She sat down beside Mary, leaned toward her, and said in a low, grave voice, "Mary, ask me what's wrong and when I answer, look dismayed."

Mary furrowed her brow. Aylee had been given another task. Next to her, Kenna glanced quickly past the hand of cards she held in front of her face. "My turn," she said, placing one of the cards on the table. The Queen of Spades. Mary tensed slightly. Queen Catherine was watching them.

Mary kept calm and did as her friend had instructed. "What is it, Aylee?" she asked, not bothering to lower her voice too much.

Aylee frowned, took a deep breath as if hesitant to break some bad news, then, in full view of the Queen, muttered in Mary's ear, "_Olivia spent the night in Francis' bedchambers_."

Mary didn't have to pretend. She gasped and her eyes widened in shock as she pulled away from Aylee, who said, "I'm sorry." It took a second for Mary to remember that the true source of the news was untrustworthy, and another to remember she must play her part convincingly. She made a show of shaking her head in disbelief, but it wasn't hard to mold her face into an expression of dismay. She need only imagine Francis and Olivia entwined in his bed and tears nearly sprang to her eyes. She stood up abruptly, knocking over her chair, and half-walked, half-ran out the room, her friends following close behind. There was no way the other ladies, and more importantly the Queen, could miss such a display.

At the door, Aylee glanced back. Queen Catherine wore a smirk of extreme self-satisfaction.

* * *

Although Mary had been learning to hide her emotions, as it was the only way to play the dangerous games at Court, she forced herself to maintain her distraught demeanor all the way to her rooms. Once they were all inside and the doors closed, Mary took a steadying breath and beckoned her friends to sit by the fire, away from the doors and windows. Spies were everywhere, and her own guards were not to be trusted. They spoke in hushed voices.

"What's happened?" asked Greer, Kenna, and Lola, all at once. Mary turned to Aylee, her inside man, or inside girl, as the case was.

"When I delivered Mary's letters to the Queen," she whispered, "she told me to tell Mary that Francis had spent the night with Olivia."

There were shocked looks all around.

"It can't be true, Mary." Lola insisted at once. "The Queen just wants to force you away from her son. We can't believe anything she says."

"Yes, but Francis _has_ been spending a lot of time with Olivia since the Harvest Festival." Kenna said reluctantly. There was a pause of silence, of doubt.

Mary sighed. "As much as I want to believe in Francis and what we have..or had, before we fought, before Olivia came back..." Her voice sounded tired with melancholy. "I don't know whom to believe."

"If only we could know for sure," Lola said.

"And not just for Mary's sake," Greer thought aloud. "We need to know what game the Queen is playing this time."

Mary looked up. "Greer, what we discussed the other day..." she spoke slowly, an idea forming "Do you think it possible that your new friend could find out if there's any truth to the information Queen Catherine is feeding me?"

The other girls looked confused, while Greer gave a small, conspiratorial smile. "Yes, I think they could."

"Now this could be dangerous." Mary added quickly. "I know this is a lot to ask of you and your friend. I don't want anyone to feel obligated to get involved if they don't feel comfortable-"

"Nonsense, I'm happy to help in any way, Mary, and I'm sure my friend will be, too." Greer stood and walked to the door. "Wait here, I'll be back with news as soon as I can." She left and closed the door behind her.

"What new friend?" Kenna asked. Aylee and Lola echoed her curiosity, but Mary kept mum.

* * *

Greer strode into the kitchens confidently and addressed the pastry chef on duty. "Queen Mary would like a tray of tarts sent to her rooms, not the drawing room, this afternoon." She purposefully ignored the blond kitchen boy who was working a few feet away and trying to catch her eye. But once the chef replied "Yes, Mistress Greer" and went to prepare the treats, she turned to Leith and they shared a secret smile. She pointed in the direction of the castle, gave him a significant look, and mouthed the word "_Now_." He looked a bit surprised but nodded to her as she left.

Greer wondered if he would be able to get away. She waited in the small dark hallway by her room. Because she wasn't a noblewoman, her rooms were in a slightly less distinguished, but thankfully less frequented, wing of the castle. She regularly met Leith there during his short breaks, and no one ever came. Still, they had to use caution, or risk her reputation and his livelihood (or life). Wanting to be absolutely sure that the coast was clear, Greer peeked around the far corner for what felt like the thirtieth time in as many minutes, when she felt long arms envelop her from behind.

"M'lady," Leith murmured in her ear. It immediately sent a thrill through her body and a smile to her face. "What, you couldn't wait til my next break, you had to have your 'sweets' _now_?" he teased. She spun around in his arms and kissed him.

"Shush, this isn't about sweets of any kind. Mary needs my help, and I need yours." Greer said seriously.

He dropped his playful nature. "What is it?"

Greer looked around again, just in case, then whispered. "You're friends with some of the guards, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, we all eat in the servants' hall together."

"Do you know any of the nightwatchmen? Particularly one who's stationed near Prince Francis or Lady Olivia?"

Leith raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I do, actually."

"Good. I need you to ask him, _quietly_, if he'd seen them spend an evening together recently." When he frowned, Greer rushed on. "I know, it's dangerous. I wouldn't be asking this of you if it weren't important, both to my queen's happiness and our country's alliance. You'd have to be very discreet, asking about such a delicate matter. And if the wrong people hear you ask the wrong questions-"

Leith placed a finger on her lips to stop her fretting. "Don't worry. I think I've proven I can be discreet with delicate situations, don't you?" He winked. "Besides, I know just who to ask, got a friend who owes me a favor. I found him sleeping while he was on night duty once, and if I promise to save him a good cut of meat for a week, he'll sing like a bird to me, then go quiet as a breeze to anyone else." He gave her his easy, winning smile, and Greer threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He tightened his embrace and held her closer until she was lifted off the floor.

When she pulled back and returned to Earth, she looked up at him and softly said, "Thank you. You don't know what this means to me."

Leith tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek. "You know I'd do anything for you, m'lady."

"I told you, I'm not a lady." she reprimanded while grinning.

"I know you're not a titled lady. But you're _my_ lady."

* * *

This must work, Mary thought as she paced around the room. She had to know. The thought of Francis taking Olivia as his mistress was eating her up inside.

It had been three days since the Harvest Festival, since their ugly argument, and things were still strained between them. She tried to talk to him again, but it was as if he could barely bring himself to look at her, and when he did, it was with sadness. He would excuse himself, claiming some business elsewhere. Business that involved taking walks around the Gardens with Olivia, her friends told her. Mary's hands balled into fists. How could Francis tell her he was "only yours" one day and then run off with another girl the next? Did their relationship mean so little to him? Perhaps because he knew that Mary couldn't leave him even if she wanted to, stuck in this arrangement for her country, or that she might be shipped off at the convenience of his? Was he so fickle? Or were all kings "so loved" and easily distracted, as Queen Catherine had warned? Mary felt a violent urge to kick something, or someone. How she hated Francis. And Olivia. And the Queen. But what she hated most was how much she still loved Francis. Mary stopped and placed a hand over her heart. Her chest actually hurt, as if her emotional pain manifested into physical. As angry as she was, Mary was just as filled with regret, over getting drunk and kissing Bash, losing her temper and practically pushing Francis into another woman's arms. And despite the anguish he caused, she missed him.

Just three days, and she was in utter misery. She didn't think she could stand it if they had to spend a lifetime like this, together but apart. If she had to watch the man she loved give his heart to someone else... if she were expected to remain silent and placid while her husband insulted her with a parade of mistresses and affairs... if she became an embittered queen whose only joy in life was making the king miserable and terrorizing future daughters-in-law... then she would rather not marry Francis at all, no matter how much she loved him.

* * *

Mary sat down, got back up, circled the room, and sat down again for the sixth time, growing increasingly impatient and anxious. Greer had been gone a whole hour already. Her friends sat in silence, having received no answer to their questions from Mary.

Finally, the door opened and Greer entered. She closed the door and rushed to their circle.

"Well?" Mary asked, fear and hope in her voice.

"It isn't true!" Greer whispered excitedly. All the girls sighed in happy relief, but most especially Mary, who felt a great weight leave her tight chest.

"My friend spoke to one of the royal guards. Olivia has been in Francis' room, yes, but only for short visits during the day." Greer revealed. "In fact, the guards seem to think Francis hasn't had any..'midnight entertainment'..since the day Mary arrived."

"Well, that's certainly encouraging. Most royals don't last that long." Kenna said cheekily.

Mary blushed and remembered her first day and her discovery that Francis was by no means a stranger to romance. She had forgiven his past "indiscretions." After all, Mary thought wryly, they were only fiancés in name, not sweethearts, and their engagement was tenuous to say the least. All that had been before they had reconnected and gotten closer. Before they had kissed and declared themselves committed to each other. But then...

"Mary, what is it?" Lola asked. "I thought you'd be pleased to hear that Francis has only had eyes for you since you returned to Court."

"But he hasn't, has he?" Mary said with a sad smile. "His eyes have returned to Olivia, his first love, and perhaps his heart as well."

"I wouldn't bet on it. The guard gave us something else." Greer continued. "It wasn't Francis' room that Olivia was seen leaving last night; it was the Queen's."

"The Queen?" Mary asked sharply. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, and apparently she left smiling. The guard mentioned it because he found it so strange. The whole castle knows how much the Queen hated Olivia."

Mary exhaled. "Then my instincts were right. Queen Catherine is behind Olivia's return."

Kenna laughed suddenly. "Francis will send Olivia away for sure when he learns she's been plotting with his mother to manipulate him."

"I'll look for some proof that links them when I deliver letters to the Queen again." Aylee offered.

Mary nodded. "Do so and be careful. Thank you, Aylee. And thank you to you and your friend, Greer. All of you. I don't know how I could ever get through this web of intrigue they call French Court without you."

"That's what we're here for, Mary." Kenna said genially. She may no longer answer to the Queen of Scotland, but she would always be a friend to Mary.

The five girls gathered and hugged each other. Then Aylee, Greer, Kenna, and Lola resumed their grim facades and exited her room one by one. They returned to their daily duties and activities, while secretly gathering gossip and collecting information wherever they could. Mary's ladies-in-waiting were her eyes and ears at Court, with lords and ladies, merchants and servants. Her friends were invaluable.

Mary sat on her bed and smiled, feeling more in control of her situation than she'd ever been. She was one step closer to beating the Queen at her own game, to removing Olivia as a rival, to getting back Francis.

But Mary's moment of triumph was brief.

The fact that Francis had not spent the night with Olivia since her return was no guarantee that he would not later, she realized. It was still, as he said, "certainly an option." Even if Mary and her friends could prove that Queen Catherine had summoned Olivia to Court, would that change anything? Francis might resent them for it, but it was obvious that he still cared for Olivia. And Olivia might have come here in league with the Queen, but Olivia had real feelings for Francis, too. The circumstances of their reunion might not matter if they truly loved each other. Mary gripped the fabric over her heart again.

She stood up. It didn't matter if the Queen was involved or not. In the end, this was still between Mary and Francis. He would have to choose: love her or love Olivia. Mary knew she would have no choice but to live with whichever outcome, but she needed to know. She needed to talk to Francis.

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 1: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but I do little research on the historical figures/places. I do not own Reign or its characters. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!

A/N 2: This is a continuation fic after "A Chill in the Air" (like "Lion&Dragon" was to 1x03 but unrelated to that story). I will try to cover all aspects of the episode, not just the love triangles, as my own version of 1x06 (I've seen no promos/spoilers for "Chosen").


	2. Chapter 2

"Francis?"

_..._

"_Francis_."

Francis snapped to attention. He had been staring into the lake, watching the ripples and getting lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Olivia. What were you saying?"

Olivia huffed but smiled. "I asked you why you haven't touched the chardonnay and brie I snuck from the kitchens. I remember they were your favorites."

"Oh, I'm not hungry." he replied and turned back to the lake.

"What is going on with you, Francis? I bring you on a lovely picnic by the lake, just like we used to, and you're not being any fun." she teased, nudging him.

He sighed. "No, I'm afraid I'm not in the mood for fun."

Olivia stared at his pensive profile for a moment. "It's her, isn't it?" she said quietly.

Francis frowned. "I saw her, kissing my brother." The truth was bitter, and saying the words didn't help the bad taste in his mouth. The image of Mary and Bash sitting by this very lake and locked in a passionate kiss was seared into his mind like a scar.

"_Tt_." Olivia shook her head angrily. "What a faithless, heartless girl."

Francis turned to her sharply. "You're wrong."

Olivia's eyes widened in shock. "Francis, she claimed to be yours and then betrayed you, with your own brother! You know I would never do that."

He grimaced. "Mary wouldn't either. She just had too much to drink and she was angry and upset with me because I told her about our kiss and my decision to let you stay a little longer."

"So she's just a petulant queen who resents you for having a friend, demands all your attention, and doesn't trust or respect you." she retorted.

"No, Mary's nothing like that." Francis said firmly. "I know you don't like her, but you don't know her."

"I know all I need to. She can't make you happy. You told me yourself that your engagement to her was a burden, both to you and to France."

"That was before-"

"Before what? You saw how pretty she is?" Olivia's eyes flashed. "When did my prince lose himself and start to put his own desires before his country?"

"That's not what I'm doing." Francis grew angry. "And how dare you accuse me of that? My feelings for Mary don't change the fact that we won't get married unless it's right for our countries. Yes, she has become an important part of my life, but my duty to my people will always be my first priority. Mary understands this better than anyone."

"Because she puts Scotland before you." Olivia placed a hand on his arm. "You're a king, Francis. And you deserve a wife who will put _you_ first. A woman who will share and lessen your burden, not add to it with politics, wars, and infidelity." She moved closer. "I can be that for you, Francis, like we once dreamed." They were now face-to-face. She leaned in to kiss him but was stayed by his hand on her shoulder.

"Olivia, please don't." Francis said gently. "I've made my decision."

"You still want me." she insisted. "You kissed me."

"That was a mistake. I was just caught up in the wine and nostalgia."

"Why are you denying-?"

"Olivia, stop." His command was soft and not unkind, but she leaned back. "You told me I could have you any way I want, and I told you I want to have you back here, but as a friend only, like we used to be before we became lovers."

She scoffed. "A friend to advise you as you endlessly fret over a girl who doesn't appreciate you?" But then her derision melted into despair. "I don't want to be just friends with you, Francis. I can't." she said desperately. "I love you."

Francis sighed and bowed his head apologetically. "I know, and I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you, Olivia."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Did our time together mean nothing to you? Was it all just a lie?"

"No, of course not. But..it was a dream, like you said. Playing make-believe with 'what-ifs' when we both knew we would wake up someday and marry other people. But it doesn't mean I didn't care. I will probably always care for your well-being, as your friend."

Olivia broke down, and Francis placed a comforting arm around her, letting her sob into his shoulder.

"It's my fault your engagement fell through." he said. "I'll do what I can to repair the damage so that you can find a good match. But if I'm causing you more pain by letting you stay here, then maybe you _would_ be more comfortable in Paris."

Olivia pulled away, her face wet and splotchy. "You're sending me away?"

"I'm trying to do what's best, for everyone, especially you." He held her hand. "I want you to move on from me, Olivia. You're a beautiful, lively, witty girl. You deserve happiness with a man who will give you all his heart."

She sniffed. "Because you never will...?"

"I'm sorry," he said again. He let go of her and turned to the lake once more. He sighed. "No matter how much she irritates me or troubles me, and even after her kiss with Bash... my heart keeps going back to Mary." Francis didn't know whether the confession alleviated or intensified the pain in his chest, but he knew it was true.

For a minute, there was nothing but the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Then Olivia spoke.

"You really love her." This time, it wasn't a question. It was an admission, a sign of acceptance.

"Yes." Francis said. "She's lovely and clever. Strong and steadfast, sometimes to the point of being stubborn and arrogant, but what royal isn't?" He had a vague smile and faraway gaze, as if speaking to himself. "And she does have a short temper, but it's only because she's so spirited, and I admire that about her." He chuckled softly. "She drives me mad, but she's the most caring and generous person I know. She shows kindness to everyone, even those who could be a threat to her."

Olivia looked down, remembering Mary's warm welcome and the dress she had lent her. As much as she tried to hate the person who had replaced her in Francis' eyes, Olivia could not. And she couldn't let her selfishness stand in the way of his happiness, not if she truly cared for him. Guilt filled her. Olivia swallowed hard and then took a deep breath. "If you love her, then, as your friend, there's something I need to tell you."

* * *

"Your son, His Highness, Prince Francis, is here to see you, Your Majesty." announced the page.

"Let him in." Queen Catherine said as she put away her papers organizing the maintenance and smooth running of the castle.

Francis burst in. "Really, Mother? Bringing in Olivia to try to drive a wedge between me and Mary?"

The Queen raised her eyebrows. "I thought you would be happy, Francis. I seem to recall how much you enjoyed her company before she left, and even spoke of marrying Olivia once."

"Once, but not now." he said through gritted teeth.

"But she still loves you, and since she's returned, I can see you still have feelings for her, too."

"She was my good friend, and I felt responsible for her situation." Francis argued. "But it was really you. I can't believe you would rope Olivia into your schemes, risk her future, _threaten_ her family." He was seething, but his mother remained collected, almost cold.

"Empty threats, I assure you." she waved it off. "But now that you and Olivia have reunited, does it really matter what brought it about?"

"Yes!" Francis stood directly in front of her, wanting to be absolutely clear. "Mother, I know you think you're doing all this for me, but these plots, the manipulations, _have_ to stop."

The Queen stared resolutely back, just as serious. "I told you, Francis, I'm on your side, always. I only care for your happiness."

"Lately it seems the only thing you care about is Mary's unhappiness."

Queen Catherine pursed her lips. "I only want what's best for you and France, and right now, Scotland isn't. A marriage to a French noblewoman from a rich and powerful house_ is_."

Francis huffed in disbelief. "So you arranged for a girl to seduce your own son? You were going to go behind Father's back and break an international alliance without consent from the King?" He shook his head. "Well, your plan failed. Olivia is going to Paris tomorrow. I'm staying with Mary." He turned and started towards the door.

"Francis!" his mother called. "I will _never_ support your marriage to her."

He stopped and looked back at her sadly, but when he spoke it was with resolve and defiance. "With or without your approval, I choose to be with Mary, for as long as this alliance will allow. And if you do anything to Mary, or meddle with any of my friends again, if you conspire against people I care about one more time, I swear, Mother, you will be lost to me."

Fear lit her face and she rushed to him. "Francis, everything I do is for you!" His mother reached out to cup his face, but he stepped back again and held up his hand to stop her.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't believe you anymore, Mother." And with a final look of disappointment, he turned around and walked out.

* * *

Francis knocked on Mary's door. There was no answer. He tried again. And again.

Finally, the door opened, but it wasn't Mary but Lola who opened it.

"Your Highness," she curtsied. "May I ask what you're doing here?"

"Hello, Lola. I was told that Mary wasn't in her room, but I thought perhaps she was simply avoiding me."

"Ah, no, she really isn't here." She seemed nervous for some reason.

"Oh. Do you know where I can find her?"

Lola averted her eyes.

"Please, I need to speak with her."

Lola hesitated then said. "Sarah told me Mary went looking for you actually. But, erm, the last time I saw her, Mary was taking a walk around the grounds, with Bash."

Francis' face fell. He cleared his throat. "I see. I'll just, I'll come back later. Thank you." He walked back down the hallway without thinking, defeated. Mary was with Bash. Although he was furious with his brother, Francis could only blame himself. His moment of weakness with Olivia and his stupid pride at the Harvest Festival had pushed an intoxicated, understandably upset Mary to seek comfort. And who better than her friend Bash, whose life was so much simpler and whose honeyed words and lingering gazes had every lady swooning. Francis kicked the gravel, suddenly finding himself outside. He had to find Mary. And he hoped he would find her, not _them_ like last time. But would he be too late to fix what had been broken?

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 1: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but I do little research on the historical figures/places. I do not own Reign or its characters. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!

A/N 2: Unlike most Frary fans, I don't want to strangle Olivia. XD I like that the Reign writers didn't make her just a home-wrecking snake; she has real feelings for Francis and she even sympathizes with Mary. (But it did irk me when she tried to guilt-trip him about his duty over his feelings, wth.) Let me know what you guys think!


	3. Chapter 3

"Mary, I think we should talk."

Mary had been looking for Francis but found his brother approaching her instead. She had been avoiding him since their kiss. The thought of it, and his presence there now, made her flush with embarrassment and shame. She continued walking. "About what, Bash?" she said, trying to sound unfazed.

"About what happened at the Harvest Festival."

She paused, then said in a rush, "I'm sorry, it shouldn't have happened. It was the strong wine, and I was upset after talking with Queen Catherine, and Kenna, and then my fight with Francis. You were just being kind to me, and I completely overstepped. It was just a stupid mistake because we were drunk and-"

"I wasn't." She looked at him and he looked calmly back. "I wanted to kiss you." Her face burned, but before she could protest, he continued, "But I'm sorry you feel it was a mistake."

"I'm engaged to your brother; of course it was a mistake." she said quickly.

He shrugged as he walked over to her. "You had good cause. _Something_ happened between Francis and Olivia."

Mary felt a pang in her heart but shook her head. "Francis said it wouldn't happen again, that he was committed to me now. I should have trusted him, but the Queen made me doubt him and the wine made me foolish." She looked down.

"Hm. And then you kissed me out of revenge. Honestly, I didn't mind one bit." he said cheekily. "You can use me to spite Francis any time you wish, Mary."

She snapped her head back up. "You shouldn't say things like that." she scolded. "It's inappropriate, and I know you love your brother and wouldn't want to hurt him."

"I do love him," he nodded, staring intently at Mary. "And while I hate to see him hurt, the one thing I can't stand is to see you unhappy." Her eyes widened. He spoke seriously, no hint of his normal flirting. "I'd do whatever it took to see your warm smile again."

Mary was caught off-guard by his bold sentiment. She gulped and broke their eye contact, not knowing where to look. "You _definitely_ shouldn't say things like that." she said heatedly.

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"I've lived at Court all my life, Mary, and I can tell you that all royals have confidants and paramours. Perhaps if Francis chooses to spend his time with Olivia..."

"What, I can spend mine with you?" The words sounded harsher than she had intended. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"It's quite alright." Bash chuckled. "I'm used to being reminded of my place."

"No, that isn't what I meant at all." she said, mortified. "Bash, this has nothing to do with your station. You know I can't be seen associating with any man besides my fiancé. My virtue could be questioned and my engagement nullified, and with it an alliance Scotland desperately needs."

"So much for that." Bash said regretfully. "Then let's play your game." His light tone was back.

"What?" The sudden changes in his attitude were confounding.

He took a step toward her. "If you were just a woman, not a royal, and I were just a man, not a royal bastard..." His gaze dropped briefly to her lips. "Could I kiss you?"

Bash wore his usual amused half-smirk, but there was sincerity in his question and in his icy blue eyes. Mary took a moment to collect herself, then looked back up at him with sympathy and kindness. "I'm afraid I can't answer that." she said softly. "I played this game with Francis, and there are no winners. Because we're not those people, and we can't change our situation by imagining things are different."

"No," he said with a wistful smile, "I suppose we can't."

Mary felt guilty for accidentally giving him hope and then hurting him. Another in a growing list of things she regretted.

"Bash, you're dashing and extremely charming. Any girl would be delighted to receive your attention. I'm sure you're well aware of that." she teased. Then she said soberly, "I don't know what would have happened if this were another life, but in this one, I've grown up loving Francis, and I can't just stop, even though it would make my life, all our lives, so much easier." She tentatively placed a hand on his sleeve. "I hope you understand."

Bash nodded slowly and heaved a sigh. "I understand."

"Thank you." she said quietly and removed her hand.

"I understand that you love Francis. But I also know you felt something, too, when we kissed, and now you don't know how to handle it."

"W-what?" she sputtered. "That's not-"

"But that's fine." Bash went on. "It's enough for me to know that I'm somewhere in your heart, even the smallest part you choose to deny." He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "For now." She shivered involuntarily and immediately stepped away. She only had a second to glare with indignation at his annoyingly serene face, before the sound of footsteps made them turn.

"Francis," Mary said in surprise. She took a few steps toward him and away from Bash, feeling as though she had been caught, though she didn't know why. Her unease only grew when she saw that his face was darkened with anger. "I-I was just looking for you."

He ignored her, striding right past her, and went up to Bash and punched him.

"Francis!" she gasped as Bash whirled to the ground. "What are you doing?"

Francis massaged his hand and scowled down at Bash, who was on his knees and rubbing his jaw. Then in one swift movement Bash got up and punched Francis, sending him stumbling backwards.

"Bash!" Mary cried. "Both of you, stop!"

The brothers launched themselves at each other and grappled, while Mary tried to pry them apart. "Stop it! You're both acting like a pair of fools!"

Suddenly a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. Francis, Bash, and Mary let go and stood frozen, wide-eyed and breathless, as the scream died down and the crows were sent flying from their trees and screeching into the sky. Mary's skin erupted in goose bumps. She had never heard such terror and agony.

"What's happened?" she breathed.

"It came from the Blood Wood," Bash said darkly. He exchanged a grim look with Francis, their scuffle seemingly forgotten after the sinister turn of events.

Francis clenched his jaw. "They're hunting again." he said, his voice tense.

"You mean the road bandits?" asked Mary. "The ones who attacked Olivia's carriage?"

"They're not thieves." Francis said gravely. "They're pagans. Godless men living wild in the forest. They've been murdering innocent people who wander into their woods."

Mary gasped in horror. She closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer for the dead.

"I'm going in there." Bash declared. Mary's eyes flew open.

"_What?_" she and Francis asked.

"If I'm fast enough, I might be able to save the poor soul. You two head back to the castle and send soldiers in after me." He made to leave, but Francis grabbed his arm.

"Mary can call the guards. Right, Mary?" She nodded, and he turned back to Bash. "I'm not going to let you go in there alone. I'm coming with you."

"Francis, you're the future King of France, you can't-"

"Exactly, and as your prince, I command you to shut up because I'm going with you." Francis said with utter finality.

Bash frowned but nodded reluctantly. "What's the point of being the eldest if I can't even order my little brother around?" he muttered. Francis allowed a smile for one second then became serious again. "We'll make a quick stop at the hunting cabin by the edge of the woods to grab some weapons."

Recovered from the initial shock, Mary suddenly realized the great danger they were walking into. "Francis." she said in a small voice. He looked at her and took her hand.

"I'll go on ahead," Bash said, "stock up, give you a minute." He hurried off to the cabin.

"Francis, please, just wait for the soldiers." Mary said, squeezing his hand.

"You heard that scream, Mary. Someone is out there right now and they need help. We're closest. Besides, I know it won't take long for the guards to join us. I remember how fast a runner you are." He smiled at her. "Now go."

Fear gripped her heart. What if something happened to him? "Francis, I-" He leaned in and kissed her, deeply, desperately, and just as abruptly pulled away. "We'll be fine." His eyes were an unreadable stormy blue. "Go." He dropped her hand and ran to catch up with Bash, leaving her reeling. But she had no time to dwell on the sense of foreboding that threatened to overtake her. She had to get help to Francis and Bash as soon as possible.

Grasping fistfuls of her skirts, Mary sprinted toward the castle as quickly as she could, hindered as she was by the layers of heavy fabrics. The fitted bodice made it even harder to move and catch her breath as she raced through the grounds. She cursed her inconveniently fine dress and then, rounding a tall hedgerow, crashed headlong into the back of another person.

"_Oof!_" She nearly fell over but managed to wave her arms and shuffle her feet to regain her balance. The person, a man, was bent over from the shove.

"I'm so sorry!" she panted. The man straightened and turned around, revealing a beastly painted face. Before Mary could do anything but gasp, she was grabbed from behind, her nose and mouth covered with a thick cloth, muffling her scream. She struggled to get out of the hold, but it was too tight. Her assailant began to drag her backwards, and she twisted and kicked wildly. Already out of breath from running and now sharp panic, her lungs burned to get air. She watched helplessly as the painted man followed, his inhuman face growing blurry. The edges of her vision darkened and then there was nothing.

* * *

Francis and Bash, hastily equipped with a sword and a hunting knife each, rushed into the woods. Bash threw his arm out and the two stopped, looking around and listening for any sign of the pagans or their prey, but only hearing the muted sounds of the forest.

"Hello, is anyone there?" Bash called out cautiously. "We heard your scream."

"We're here to help." Francis said, his voice barely louder than usual but seemingly sonorous in the unsettling quiet.

There was no answer. They walked deeper into the gloom, wary of their surroundings. Bash noiselessly unsheathed his sword, and Francis followed. A few yards later, they tried again.

"Is there anyone out there?" they called quietly.

"Hello?" came a weak, scared voice from somewhere to their left. "Is someone there?"

They ran toward the voice. "Yes, we're coming," Francis told them.

"Oh, thank God!" a woman cried. "Please, please help me!"

"Hold on!" Bash shouted, then pointed, "There!" A woman, a maid by the look of her clothes, was bound to the trunk of a tree, a burlap sack over her head.

"Are you alright?" Francis asked as they drew near.

"T-they hurt me! Help me, please!" she said hysterically. When they reached her, they could see bloody slashes in her sleeves. Francis cursed under his breath.

"Just hold on, we'll cut you loose." Bash said as they put away their swords and drew their knives. The maid sobbed loudly while they sawed and hacked through the thick cords of rope. Silent shadows melted off the nearby trees, and without warning, struck. A brutal blow to the back of their heads and Francis and Bash were knocked out.

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 1: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but I do little research on the historical figures/places. I do not own Reign or its characters. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!

A/N 2: Oops, I accidentally wrote some Mash. It's part of the episode, okay? So Mash can't be completely resolved yet (it's too early in the season), but maybe enough to get on with the story (and more Frary)? Anyway, I hate to make Mary a "damsel in distress" again, but she is the main character and well, they're all in trouble. Thanks for the reviews, folks! Greatly appreciated and encouraging!


	4. Chapter 4

Bash stirred and groaned. The throbbing in his head was excruciating, like all his worst headaches combined into one. For the first minute, the pain was the only thing he was conscious of, but slowly, his other senses returned. He was lying on the hard ground, and he felt rough rope scrape his wrists, which were tied behind his back. His legs seemed to be stuck together as well. Then he heard voices, mumbling. No, muffled. And distressed. Bash tried to open his eyes, but something warm, sticky, and red made it difficult. Blood was dripping down from his forehead. He blinked it away furiously to clear his vision. The muffled voices increased in volume and urgency. When Bash finally managed to lift his aching head and look around, what he saw made his heart stop.

Francis and Mary were tied up and gagged, with nooses around their necks and terror in their eyes. They stood precariously on wooden bar stools, the only things keeping them from swinging from the gnarled branches of the monstrous tree in front of him. The tree reminded him of the maid, but there was no sign of her now. Slain, most likely, he thought grimly. She was just the bait.

"Francis. Mary." he wheezed, struggling to sit up. They shouted through the cloth around their mouths, but he couldn't understand what they were trying to say. "Hold on, I-I'm coming." His head was still pounding, from multiple blows, he concluded, and he could barely focus. But he pushed all that aside and willed himself to concentrate and get to his knees, for them. He was injured, bound, and weaponless, but he said, "I'll save you."

"One of them, at least."

Bash whirled around, the sudden movement almost making him sick. The feeling doubled when he saw two men and a woman walking toward him, their faces covered with what looked like a mixture of blood and dirt, crudely painted into the likeness of a demon.

"Let them go." Bash demanded with more confidence than he currently felt. "Your quarrel is with me."

"It is." said the painted woman. "You owe a debt. And one of these two will be your payment." It was then that Bash noticed her sleeves, torn and bloody.

"You. You were the maid. The scream..."

She nodded. "I lured you here. Made it easy to capture you all."

The three pagans walked past him to the tree. As soon as he was behind them, Bash bent back and quickly reached into his boot to pull out the small razor blade he hid there. He resumed his position before the woman turned around. She stood in front of the ancient tree, spread her arms, and recited some Druid nonsense, like a perversion of a priest who presides over a service. The two men moved behind Francis and Mary. Bash's heart was in his throat. It was his fault they were in mortal danger.

"What do you want, a ransom?" Bash said as he secretly began to cut into the rope around his wrists. "Name your price, we can get it."

"We care not for gold. Only blood."

"Then take mine. Let them go." He ignored Francis and Mary's muffled protests.

"No. Your brother or your beloved."

Bash felt the blood drain from his face.

"Yes, we know who they are and how important they are to you. We have eyes everywhere." said the devil woman. "You disrupted a sacred act, took from a Source, not once, but twice. You were warned, Sebastian. Choose a sacrifice, or we would. Now you have to decide, who has the honor of giving themselves up to our Master."

Bash's eyes darted between Francis and Mary. They looked so frightened, not just for themselves but for each other, he knew. He continued to saw through the rope as quickly and as subtly as possible, swaying from feigned dizziness to disguise the movement of his arms. He had to keep the heretics talking.

"If you know who they are, then you must also realize that the Royal Guard will be coming for them very soon, and more importantly, they'll be coming for your _heads_." It was only half true. The absence of a prince and a queen would be noticed right away, but it could still take a couple of hours for people to search the labyrinthine castle and extensive grounds. By the time anyone thought to look for them in the Blood Wood, it could very well be too late. Bash cursed his own foolhardiness, rushing blindly into danger and dragging Francis and Mary with him.

"We're confident that it will be another hour at the least before your people come." the woman said. "But to speed the process, we will make it simple. Choose one, or both will die."

Bash inhaled sharply, from alarm and from the pain of the blade slicing his palm as he hastened to cut his bonds. "You're monsters." he spat in disgust.

She narrowed her eyes. "Choose_._"

He scowled at her, filled with such hate as he had never known before. Just a bit more to go. He was so close to getting his hands free, and once he did, he would kill this witch.

"_Choose._" she repeated. He said nothing. After a minute, she raised a hand to signal her minions, who stepped up and placed a foot on the stools, ready to kick them out from under Francis and Mary and hang them both.

"No, wait, stop! I'll do it!" Bash shouted. They paused. The painted woman stared expectantly at him.

Breathing heavily, Bash looked at the two people he held most dear. It was impossible. How could he decide which one lived and which died? He met Francis' pleading eyes, and he understood. Francis glanced over at Mary and back to him. Bash knew he was asking him to save her and let him die. Bash took a shuddering gasp, his torn emotions suffocating him, and he felt a tear fall down his cheek. He turned to Mary. She had seen the exchange. She sobbed into the fabric tied around her mouth and shook her head so vigorously she might have fallen off the stool herself. "I'm sorry," he whispered, to both of them.

"So you have decided which one shall go to glorious sacrifice?" the dark priestess asked.

Bash glared at her with ice-cold eyes filled with wrath, venom, and tears. "I have."

"Good." she said over Mary's muffled scream. She turned around to look at the two candidates and drew from her belt a dagger, which she held aloft. With a resonant voice, she called out to the Blood Wood. "Who will be the Chosen one?"

Bash took a deep breath and said, "How about you?"

He wrenched his arms apart, snapping the last tendrils of rope, and pulled the heathen woman down. He grabbed her ceremonial dagger and held it to her throat.

"Cut them down, or I cut her throat!" Bash ordered the men. They didn't move. "I swear I will kill your priestess if you don't let them go." The woman laughed.

"Do you think we fear death? By the will of our Master, I have been Chosen!" she exulted. "_It is a privilege to die in service of something so much greater._" she said reverently, almost like a prayer. Then she grabbed Bash's hand and brought the blade across her own throat. Mary and Francis exclaimed into their gags, but Bash, in complete shock, barely heard them as her body slumped against him and her blood spilled over his arm. Repulsed, he shoved her away. When she hit the ground, he could see wide, empty eyes and a manic smile on her face.

His hand, covered in her blood, shook slightly as Bash hacked at the ropes binding his legs. When he was done, he stood up. He heard a twig snap nearby, and he knew they weren't alone. "Let us go." he said, but the two painted men remained motionless, waiting for something.

"There's your sacrifice." Bash spoke to the surroundings, pointing down at the dead woman. "_Lumenick dushkader. Et sprago faraha. Ay raynim doluchtai!_"

A heartbeat, the sound of the pagans moving through the trees around them, then silence.

"We accept this payment for our Master." said the man behind Mary. He walked to the body and lifted it. "The debt is paid."

"No!" the other shouted. "He has broken the laws of the sacrificial rite! One of these two was meant to be the Chosen." It seemed he didn't care about the death of their priestess; he was angry that Bash hadn't played by their inane, savage rules.

"Your 'law' said that I must choose a sacrifice, and I did." Bash said coldly. "I gave her the 'honor' of going to her black god. I paid in blood."

The first man nodded and walked away with the new blood sacrifice, disappearing into the forest with his brothers. But the second cursed in his harsh Druid tongue then spoke to Bash.

"You have to choose. Our Master demands their blood! This isn't how it was supposed to be. Now choose!" he raved, clearly demented. "CHOOSE!" he shrieked.

"It's over!" Bash shouted. "Get out of here!" He brandishing the dagger and stepped closer, trying to scare him off.

"Fine, I will serve the Master." the heretic mumbled, his eyes wild. "If you won't choose, then I _will_." He kicked the stool out and Francis dropped like a stone.

"_NO!_" Bash lunged forward and caught Francis around the middle before the noose could tighten and snap his neck. He heaved a great sigh of relief.

The pagan backed away, shaking his head frantically. "It's not supposed to be this way!" He made a mad dash for Mary, desperate to complete his mission. Bash hastily transferred Francis to one arm and used the other to throw the dagger as fast and hard as he could. Before the crazed zealot could reach Mary, the blade landed in his back, and with a cry of agony, he fell and did not get up.

Bash panted, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest. He looked up at Francis, who nodded, then at Mary, who whimpered softly but nodded as well. Thank God, they were both alive and unharmed.

"I'll get you both down, just hold on." he said. But without the dagger, he couldn't cut Francis loose, and he couldn't let go or Francis would hang. Very carefully, Bash reached out for the fallen stool, struggling to hold up Francis above the noose at the same time. He groaned with the strain, but he managed to grasp one of the legs and drag the stool back into place. He positioned Francis over it and helped him find his balance until he could stand on his own. Then Bash ran to retrieve the dagger, pulling it out of the lifeless body.

He went to Mary first. He cut the ropes around her torso, freeing her arms. "You need to cut the noose." he told her, handing her the dagger. Mary nodded and sawed at the rope above her with trembling hands while Bash kept her steady on the stool. Once the noose was severed, Bash held out his arms and Mary jumped down. He caught her and gently placed her on the ground. She immediately returned the dagger and pointed urgently at Francis. Bash hurried to his brother and repeated the process.

Mary tore the gag away from her mouth. "Thank you." she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Bash continued working on Francis' bonds, too ashamed to respond. He didn't deserve thanks. This was all his doing. He finally cut the last cord and helped Francis down.

"Francis!" Mary cried, her voice filled with concern. She rushed to his side and held his face. "Are you alright?" He nodded and ripped his own gag and noose off. "Are you?" he asked anxiously, holding onto her hands.

"Yes, I'm just so, _so_ happy you're alive!" she said, tears in her eyes. They hugged each other tightly.

After a few seconds, Bash interrupted them. "Come on. It'll be dark soon. We need to get out of here."

They broke apart. Francis took Mary's hand, looked at Bash, and said, "Lead the way."

They followed Bash out of the small clearing and back into the dense woods. At first, it was easy to find the tracks left by the pagans dragging three unconscious captives. But with dusk fast approaching, the light dimmed, making it harder for Bash to retrace their steps and find the way out. He stopped to study the sky instead, hoping he could use the faint emerging stars to navigate, when they heard the diminished sound of a trumpet from far in the distance.

"The Royal Guard." Francis said. They ran toward the sound, and within a few minutes they heard voices as well, vague shouts that turned into their names.

"Here! We're over here!" they called and soon met with the soldiers of their search party. Night fell swiftly, so the guards lit their torches and guided them through the dark and finally out of the nightmare of the Blood Wood.

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 1: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but I do little research on the historical figures/places. I do not own Reign or its characters. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!

A/N 2: "It's a trap!" So, whoa, freaky cult drama! (I considered having Bash just slit her throat as soon as he got free but thought that might be too dark. What do you think?) Next chapter returns to your regularly scheduled intrigue and romance. Reviews are love! ;)


	5. Chapter 5

The whole castle was in a frenzy when Mary, Francis, and Bash returned from their excursion. They were thoroughly fussed over and scowled at in equal measure for worrying everyone. The King demanded to see them at once, but Francis insisted that Mary be sent to Nostradamus just in case. Mary was reluctant to leave the brothers to face their father's wrath alone. They assured her it would be fine, and in any case, she wasn't sure she could stand the confrontation, feeling physically and emotionally drained. So Mary let her ladies-in-waiting escort her to the spare room beside Nostradamus' study, where he looked her over, treated the small scrapes and bruises, and gave her a tonic to help her relax. They left her alone to rest on the bed, and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The King and Queen sat at the Throne, listening to Francis and Bash recount what had happened that afternoon. King Henry remained stone-faced throughout, and when they were done, he stood.

"Captain," he addressed the leader of the Royal Guard, "Prepare a squadron of rangers and fighters, to be ready to leave by high noon. I want you to go into the Blood Wood tomorrow and flush out the vile pagans once and for all. They have gone too far this time, abducting and threatening royalty. It's time for us to hunt _them_, and put them down."

"Yes, Your Majesty, right away." The captain bowed and left.

King Henry turned to Francis and Bash and walked down to them. He studied them with shrewd, narrowed eyes. They knew what was coming and didn't flinch when he slapped Bash, then Francis.

"Henry," warned Queen Catherine. She would not tolerate this treatment of her son. But Francis and Bash took it stoically and bowed their heads.

"Did I raise my sons to be half-wits?" The King said through gritted teeth. "What were you thinking, running into the Wood by yourselves? Going on some harebrained hero's mission to save a damsel in distress, without reinforcements, without telling anyone where you were going. And don't say you planned for Mary to do that, because you only put her in danger as well. You were careless, irresponsible, and absurdly foolish."

They lowered their heads further and mumbled apologies.

"Look at me." their father said, and they did. "Francis, when are you going to understand that you are the Heir to the Throne, the next King of France?"

"I do understand, Father. I'm sorry, I know what I did was stupid-"

"You say you do, but you don't behave accordingly!" interrupted the King. "You can't be risking your life on a fool's errand. Do you realize what would have happened if you'd been killed? I'm not a young man anymore, and your brother Charles is just a boy. Without a proper heir, this country would be thrown into chaos, vulnerable, ripe for the picking by England and any number of greedy rivals. Your life is France's life. You are far too important. And not just to your country." King Henry lowered his eyes, but Francis could see on his parents' faces how much pain and worry he had caused his family.

"I'm so sorry." Francis said, flooded with guilt. "I promise I'll take my position and my responsibilities more seriously, and I won't do anything to endanger myself or anyone else again."

Bash felt compelled to speak up then. "It was my fault, Father. My arrogance that made an enemy of the pagans and made Francis and Mary their targets."

"Don't think I've forgotten about you." King Henry said to him. "I told you not to interfere with the vagrants in the woods. And you are the oldest, Sebastian, my first-born. You are supposed to look out for your brother, but instead you draw him into your perilous situation and nearly get him and Mary killed. You could have ruined two lives, two families, and two countries."

Bash knelt down before the King. "I humbly apologize for my actions and beg your forgiveness. I take full responsibility and will accept any punishment you see fit." King Henry frowned down at him. Bash knew that if it were any other man, life imprisonment would be considered just. But he wasn't just his subject, and he wasn't noble either, so there were no titles or lands to be stripped from him. He was there by the good grace of the King, and there was only one punishment left. Banishment.

King Henry circled the two brothers, looking deep in thought. They waited with bated breath. Francis noted that his mother watched the scene closely as well. After the third round, the King stopped in front of them again. "Stand." he said, and Bash rose. He sighed. "I'm sending you away."

"Father, no!" Francis interjected but was silenced with a look. The Queen seemed pleased that she would at last be rid of the eye sore that was Henry's bastard. Bash bowed, trying to hide his disappointment, sadness, and shame. When he straightened, he hoped his father could see the resignation and respect in his eyes.

"You are to go to Calais." King Henry continued. "It's under English control, and I need a spy in that region. Someone who can get close to the English unnoticed and send me word of their movements. Someone I trust."

Bash nodded. "It would be an honor, Your Majesty."

"I'm not finished yet." said King Henry. "I want you to be my agent in Calais and then regularly report back here. One month there, one month here, alternating, until I say otherwise." The penalty was severe enough so that the King wouldn't look weak, but it wasn't total banishment; he could still go back home to his family. Bash and Francis sighed gratefully and smiled. Their father had a faint smile, too, but Francis' mother looked far less pleased.

"Thank you, Father. It is most generous." Bash said, his heart lighter.

The King resumed his regal manner and said, "That will be all, Sebastian."

Apparently he wasn't finished with Francis yet. Bash bowed to the King and Queen, placed a supportive hand on his brother's shoulder, then exited the room.

King Henry decreed "From now on, Francis, you are forbidden from entering the forest. You are to keep to the castle and the grounds, and you may not travel anywhere outside the estate without a company of guards. Is that clear?

Francis had been expecting an increase in his confinement and security. "Yes, Father."

His mother spoke up. "And I think Francis should be accompanied by at least five guards at all time, even in the castle."

This was too far. "No," Francis started.

"_Yes._" his father finished. "For once, your mother and I agree. Your personal guard will go everywhere you go and keep you from harm, and keep you from doing something stupid again._ Someone_ has to take your safety seriously." The King swept past him. "It's late. We're done for tonight." he said and departed for his bedchambers.

Queen Catherine approached Francis, but he refused to meet her eyes and left as well.

* * *

Nostradamus joined the Queen, who was looking out to the sea.

"You summoned me, Your Majesty?"

Still staring out the window, she asked, "How's Mary?"

"Minor injuries. She's shaken, but she'll be fine."

The Queen frowned and said, "I wish she'd died in that forest."

Nostradamus was taken aback. "Your Majesty? I know we work to end their engagement, but to wish an end to her life..?"

She turned sharply to him. "Francis almost died tonight." she said with anger and fear in her voice. "He was willing to sacrifice himself, for _her_." She pursed her lips and breathed heavily. "She's a danger to him. No matter how Francis feels, about Mary or about me, I will not cease but _double_ my efforts. I will do whatever it takes to pry that girl away from my son."

"Francis won't forgive you. If you do this, you will lose his love."

"And if I don't, he will lose his _life_." she whispered urgently.

Nostradamus nodded, unable to deny his visions of the future.

"Francis may hate me...but at least he'll be alive." Queen Catherine said with resolve. "His life is more important than my own. That's what it means to be a mother."

* * *

Mary woke suddenly, unsure of the time or day and confused by her surroundings. It took her a moment to remember how she had ended up sleeping in what she called the recovery room. It was silent and dark. She went to the window and pulled back the curtain. The air was cool and crisp, and the sky a light gray, just before dawn. Mary took a deep breath, taking in the scent of morning, and her head cleared, She felt much more stable than the night before, even a bit hungry. Deciding to visit the kitchens, she pulled on a robe and quietly opened the door. She stopped short.

"Francis?" He was sitting on a high-back chair set right outside the door.

"Mary." he said, standing. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, but.." She then noticed that there were also half a dozen guards in the hallway. "What's going on? Were you here waiting all night?"

"Not all night." he said sheepishly. "Bash and I met with my parents, I got a new set of best friends, and I tried sleeping for awhile but I couldn't, so..." he trailed off.

He had been worried about her. Mary smiled, touched. "I was just about to order some breakfast. Would you join me?"

"I'd love to." He smiled back. "But why don't I send one of my new friends to fetch it? You should still be resting."

"I'm fine, Francis, really."

"Please," he said, suddenly serious, "I'd like a moment alone with you, if I could. We need to talk. About us."

About their fight at the Harvest Festival, she thought. It felt like ages ago, but it still hung in the air between them. "Of course." she said. She returned to the room and held the door open for Francis, who joined her after giving a guard brief instructions.

They walked to the middle of the room, and she turned to him. Before she could say anything, he rushed forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. She was surprised at first but quickly snaked her arms around him.

"Thank God you're alright." he murmured. "Thank God." His caring concern broke the dam. The tension and terror of their ordeal, the relief and joy she felt after, everything she had been trying to contain burst forth. Overwhelmed by it all, Mary began to weep. She clutched his back, and he held her tighter, like he never wanted to let her go.

"It's all right now, Mary. It's over." he said soothingly, stroking her hair. "You're safe."

Mary took a shuddering breath and lifted her face, streaked with tears. She swallowed and shook her head. "I wasn't afraid for myself." she said haltingly between sobs. "I was scared for _you_, Francis." She placed her hand on his face. Her watery brown eyes roved over his features, drinking in every inch, then returned to his blue eyes. "I was terrified of losing you."

Francis kissed her forehead and pulled her close again. "When I woke up and saw you, tied up and at the mercy of those barbarians..." He shook his head. "I'd never been so frightened before." He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory. "I would have given up my life to save you."

Mary locked her arms around his neck, bringing herself closer to him. "You almost did." she said with a mix of wonder, fear, gratitude, and pain. "I wanted to scream at you, to kiss you, to save you. I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, but I couldn't-." Her voice broke as tears welled up again. "And I just kept thinking...even if Bash chose to save me, I would die anyway, without _you_."

Francis shifted and suddenly crushed her lips with his. It was explosive, monumental, with more passion and emotion than either had ever felt. All their fear, hope, and love mingled together as they kissed like it would be their very last.

Then Francis broke the contact to shower her face with kisses. "I love you." he whispered as his lips caressed her cheek, her nose, her eyes.

"I love you." Mary sighed and kissed him again.

They spent the early morning sitting on the plush carpet by the fire, eating fruit jams with the kitchen's first loaf of bread of the day. There were still things that needed to be discussed, but for the moment, they were content with the silence, communicating only with affectionate glances, small smiles, and sweet kisses. When they finished breakfast, they curled up under warm furs and lied back. Holding Mary in his arms, Francis finally fell into a peaceful slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 1: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but the historical characters and story are not based on any research. I do not own Reign. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!

A/N 2: Ah, nothing like a shared near-death experience to speed up a love story to the ILYs, right? ;) What starts as a "sequel episode" fast-forwards to a "season finale." Not as close to the show in its current state, but I guess that's the point of fanfic, wish-fulfillment and imagining future scenarios.

A/N 3: Shout-out to _Kennie Loves 'HP'TCoN'TIC_ who was willing to give up her life (chocolate) to inspire me to finish this chapter and post it a few hours earlier. And to my friend _chrisrose_ who writes the best Humor fics in Reigndom! Thank you for all the reviews, guys! Keep 'em coming please!


	6. Chapter 6

Francis woke up before midday well-rested but alone. His guards informed him that Queen Mary had returned to her rooms, _after_ she instructed them to make sure he was not disturbed. Francis couldn't stop smiling as he made his way through the castle, the perfect morning with Mary replaying in his mind. Not even the five guards that encircled him could annoy him. When he arrived at his room, he found Bash waiting for him outside.

"Thank you." Francis said as Bash said, "I'm sorry." They chuckled awkwardly, and Francis gestured for Bash to go first.

Bash sighed and looked guiltily at Francis. "I'm sorry for what happened. I almost got you and Mary killed. I will never forgive myself, and I don't expect you to either, but I am truly sorry, Francis."

Francis put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You're not responsible for the actions of mad men. We don't blame you, Bash, you were just as much a victim of their sick game as we were. But you saved us both, and I will be forever grateful to you for that. _Thank you_."

Bash looked stunned but touched. "Please, don't thank me. Since I'm the one who got you two into trouble, it only seemed right that I should get you out of it." he said in his half-joking, self-deprecating way.

Francis hesitated. "Now," he said with a frown, "about your kiss with Mary..."

Bash winced. "You saw that, did you?"

"Yes," he replied, slightly irked. "Why do you think I punched you?"

"The same reason I punched you, I suppose. You were upsetting Mary."

The brothers stared at one another for a couple of seconds then scoffed at their own foolishness.

"What a pair we make, fighting over a girl." Bash said, shaking his head. Then, "What if I told you the kiss didn't mean anything, that we were simply befuddled with wine?"

"I wouldn't believe you." Francis said. "It takes a lot to get you drunk, and don't forget, I've seen you sauced, and that wasn't it."

"Maybe so." said Bash, looking uneasy. "But if it makes you feel any better, Mary regretted it as soon as it happened and made it very clear to me that she loves you. Our kiss didn't mean anything to her."

Francis was comforted somewhat, yet... "It did to you though. Didn't it?"

Bash looked at him a moment then lowered his gaze. "You know, in all our years, I never once envied you for the kingdom. And now I envy you for your queen."

Francis nodded, acknowledging Bash's feelings for Mary with as much dignity as he could. He just hoped it was true that Mary didn't share those feelings.

"Don't worry," Bash said, looking up again. "It won't happen again. I've seen just how much you two love each other, even willing to die for one another. I won't get in the way of that love."

"Thank you." said Francis, relieved but also a little sad for his brother's plight.

"So we're alright?" Bash asked uncertainly.

"Just don't kiss Mary again, and we will be." replied Francis lightly, though the implied warning was noted. "Alright?"

"Just don't be an idiot and make Mary unhappy again, and it will be." Bash countered, in the same casual tone. He promised to step aside for them, but if their bond ever broke, then all bets were off.

An understanding passed between them.

"Well, I'm off." Bash said suddenly. "I have a few things left to pack before my 'vacation' in Calais."

"You shouldn't have to go." Francis said. "Your punishment-"

"-is more lenient than I deserve." Bash finished. "I'll be back home in a month. Plenty of time for you to patch things up with Mary, little brother." He slapped his arm and winked, back to his usual teasing nature.

* * *

"M'lady," Leith greeted, presenting Greer with a little bouquet of wildflowers. Her face split into a wide smile.

"They're lovely, thank you, Leith." She sniffed their fresh aroma then kissed him on the cheek. "I have something for you as well." She handed him a small leather pouch. He opened it and poured the silver coins into his palm.

"What's this?" he asked, looking confused and a bit upset. "I told you, I don't need charity-"

"No, it's not from me!" Greer muttered impatiently. "It's from Mary, to thank you and your nightwatchman friend for your service, and presumably, your silence."

Leith blinked, slightly embarrassed. "Oh, well, please tell Her Grace we greatly appreciate her generous gift, and uh, she can be assured of our discretion."

"I'll pass along the message." Greer nodded.

"And I'll pass along the coin to my friend." he said, putting the pouch away. "I have a feeling he'll be eager to share any tidbits he overhears from now on." He grinned.

"Ooh, clandestine affairs." she said with a coquettish smirk. Her hands roamed up his chest to grip the collar of his shirt. "How exciting." They laughed quietly, and she pulled him down and kissed him.

* * *

A few hours after watching the troops march into the Blood Wood, Mary and Francis were now seeing Bash off. He wore plainer, less conspicuous clothing and a common traveler's cloak. His horse carried only a few small packs and was saddled and ready.

"Thank you so much, Bash." Mary said earnestly. "Your bravery and quick thinking saved our lives."

Bash shook his head. "As I've already explained to Francis, I can't accept your thanks, since you wouldn't have needed saving in the first place if it weren't for me." He cleared his throat. "Mary, I deeply regret what I did." She had the distinct impression he was talking about more than the pagans. "I hope I can have your forgiveness." he said.

"Of course." said Mary, smiling kindly. "All is forgiven and forgotten. You may go on your journey with a light heart."

"Your warm smile has returned, so I shall." he said chivalrously, and she was relieved that it sounded like his old, harmless flirting rather than his serious confession the day before. He bowed courteously to her.

Francis stepped forward. "Take care, Bash. Stay safe." He hugged him, and Bash returned the brotherly love. They broke and slapped each other on the back the way men do.

"See you in one month." Bash said as he mounted his horse. With a final exchange of farewells, he rode off. Mary and Francis held each other's hand, watching him gallop down the King's Road until he was just a speck in the distance.

"It's time for me to go as well." said a voice behind them. It was Olivia.

"You're leaving?" Mary asked, surprised. She was sure Olivia would continue to pursue Francis, with the Queen's support. She turned to Francis. "But I thought you said the Viscountess was no longer an option?"

"I wrote to Viscountess Demarchelier, telling her the whole thing was just a misunderstanding." he said, looking pleased. "And I was sure that a good noble lady like Olivia would be a welcome and greatly admired addition to Parisian society. She agreed and offered her home right away."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Olivia said graciously, though her eyes still showed hurt, and Francis' face turned somber. "I am sure I will find a good husband there." Then she said to Mary, "Please, look after our prince for me, Your Grace."

Mary didn't know what to say except "I will." She couldn't deny that she was glad to see her go, but unexpectedly, she felt for her "rival," perhaps because it was clear that Olivia was truly heartbroken. It was no excuse for trying to seduce her fiancé, but Olivia's feelings were real, and now she would have rumors of her reputation follow her everywhere because she couldn't be with the man she loved. A woman's life was hard and unfair. "Good luck, Lady Olivia." Mary said, and she meant it.

A carriage pulled up, laden with trunks. "This is goodbye." Olivia said to Francis, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Mary tried to suppress a pang of jealousy as Francis let go of her hand and went to take Olivia's.

"I wish you well, Olivia." he said gently. "Be happy." He dropped her hand and stepped back. She quickly turned around and ran to the carriage, a sob escaping her lips as she climbed in and shut the door. He sighed as the carriage rolled away, and Mary couldn't help but wonder if Francis was heartbroken, too.

* * *

The next day, in her room, Mary met with her friends. They expressed again how very glad they were that she was alive and well. Lola was more reserved, probably disappointed with the departure of Bash, Mary guessed. Meanwhile, Greer updated her with regards to her "secret friend" and a possible new source of information, and Kenna had overheard the Captain informing King Henry that the hunt for the pagans had only been partially successful so far.

"Most of the vagrants they caught seem to be just peasants, and only a few are the pagans." she said. "There were some ambushes and skirmishes, but these heretics know the Blood Wood so much better than the soldiers." Her voice lowered. "It's said that they're able to appear out of nowhere, then disappear back into the forest, like ghosts. The men say it's witchcraft."

Mary raised her eyebrows. "And what does the Captain say?"

Kenna shrugged. "He suspects they've built hiding places all over the woods, so although they're greatly outnumbered, the pagans continue to elude capture."

Mary exhaled. "Let us pray for the souls of the people they sacrificed, and pray that the reign of terror of these godless heathens will end soon."

Afterward, she turned to Aylee. "Any news from your last delivery to the Queen?"

Aylee frowned. "I believe Queen Catherine has abandoned her plans for Olivia but not her mission. She's still determined to get rid of you." They all looked at each other with worried expressions.

"She may try, but I'm not going anywhere." Mary said with conviction. "Especially not now." She and Francis were engaged and in love, and she wouldn't let anything jeopardize that.

"I'm sorry I haven't found physical proof that the Queen was controlling Olivia." Aylee added, like she had let Mary down.

"It's alright, Aylee, you did well." Mary smiled. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now. Olivia is out of our lives for good." she said.

But Olivia's past with Francis still cast a shadow over Mary's heart.

~~~~~~~~~~To Be Concluded~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 1: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but the historical characters and story are not based on any research. I do not own Reign. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!

A/N 2: Penultimate chapter! This is shorter because I decided to put the final Frary "scene" in the last chapter on its own. Reign sure has a ton of guilt, regret, and angst to complicate a love story. Why do I try to do romantic fics when it's so haaard? But I loved writing Greith and Mary's "war council." ;) Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Mary and Francis strolled by the lake, hand in hand, enjoying the tranquil surroundings and each other's company.

But when they reached the spot where Mary and Bash had kissed, she faltered for half a step and turned away to hide her face. Francis noticed her guilty expression. He sighed inwardly. As much as he wanted to continue in blissful ignorance and golden silence, they couldn't ignore the cloud of secrets and regrets hanging over their heads forever. He stopped her.

"Mary, I think we should talk about what happened, between you and Bash."

Her eyes widened in shock and her face reddened in embarrassment. "Y-you know?" she gasped, then belatedly realized the cause of the brothers' fistfight.

"Yes, I know about your kiss." He grimaced. "After we fought, I went looking for you, and well, I found you...with Bash."

"Francis!" Mary said, horrified. "I'm so sorry! I swear it was nothing. Just a stupid, immature, drunken mistake that I wish had never happened. And I was going to tell you, but you were still angry, and I was scared, and things have been going so well for us lately, and I didn't want to ruin it." She took a breath. "It meant _nothing_." she repeated emphatically. "Please believe me." She could see that she had hurt him, and she feared he would not be able to forgive her.

He stared into her eyes for a few seconds, desperately hoping that the passionate kiss he had witnessed had only been one-sided. Her remorse was sincere, he knew, and he was sure of her love for him. He decided to believe in that, so he said, "I do, Mary."

She let out the breath she had been holding. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you, Francis." she said, placing her hand on his arm.

"There's plenty of blame to go around." he sighed. "You only went to Bash in that emotional and..slightly inebriated..state because I was behaving like a 'moody, arrogant arse' again."

She smiled slightly at that, but insisted, "No, I was the one who was unreasonable and, as you said, unsteady from too much wine and too little food. I should have trusted your word, but instead I overreacted and lost my temper."

"I lost mine, too." Francis admitted, wanting to clear the air of all their errors and doubts. "And of course you were angry and upset, after hearing about my and Olivia's kiss." He lowered his eyes, ashamed.

Mary bit her lip and asked, hesitantly, "And, is that.._all_ that happened?" He hadn't said exactly, only that he had "stopped it."

Francis took both her hands in his and looked directly at her. "_Yes_. Just one meaningless kiss. I wasn't thinking and got caught up in our trip down memory lane, which ironically, also involved alcohol. But that's all." She still looked unsure, wounded and vulnerable. "Mary, I swear to you that nothing else happened between Olivia and me, and I would take it back if I could. I'm sorry." He kissed her hands.

After a moment, Mary said, "We both made mistakes, did things we regret. We could have handled things better."

Francis nodded. "We should have talked more, and drank less." he said. "Perhaps we should add that to our wedding vows."

Mary laughed a little then turned solemn again, her insecurities still eating at her. She forgave him for the kiss, as she had had the same lapse in judgment. But if not physical, what if Francis and Olivia had resumed an emotional affair? She was his first love, just as he was Mary's. Olivia would always have a place in his heart. What if he loved her still?

"What is it?" Francis asked her, searching her face. He could see she was still in pain, and he had to erase it.

"I just-" she began, then started again. "I was worried, because after we fought, you were avoiding me..and spending more time with Olivia." Francis tried to reassure her, but she rushed on. "I know nothing else happened with her. I believe you. And I know you love me." She took a deep breath. "But, Francis, she was your first love. I know what she must mean to you. That first, sweet, pure love never really goes away. I should know." Because it was what she had always felt for him.

Mary looked down at their hands and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm being ridiculous, fretting over the past and bringing up petty jealousy after the life-and-death situation we just went through. Forget I said anything." Francis released her hands and brought his to her face. He lifted her head. Instead of exasperation like she expected, he was smiling at her with adoration.

"Mary," he said tenderly, "I'm sorry I made you worry. I only avoided you because I was confused, jealous, and afraid that I had pushed you away, to Bash." She shook her head no. "Olivia and I only talked." he stressed. "We decided to go back to being just friends because, as I told her repeatedly, I am in love with _you_, Mary."

She smiled, and he tucked her hair behind her ear, chuckling softly as he told her, "She actually got fed up with me because all I would talk about was you. How much I admire you, and care for you, and love you."

Mary blushed with pleasure. He leaned in and kissed her, his lips warm and soft, and all her doubts melted away. She was sure of Francis' feelings. Regardless of who came before, he loved Mary now. The past no longer mattered, only the present and their future.

When they parted, Francis grinned and said, "But you're wrong, you know. Olivia wasn't my first love."

"What?" she said, bewildered. "But I thought..."

"True, she was my first..romantic relationship." Francis said, suddenly shy. "And there were feelings and happy days and intimacy. But it was a fantasy, an escape from the pressures and restrictions of my life. Everything was already decided for me, how I spent my time and where and with whom, what I would be when I grew up, and even who I would marry. I just wanted to control one thing in my life, and the only thing they couldn't decide for me was who I fell in love with."

Mary understood. As a queen, she felt the same frustrations and lack of freedom. She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"When you first returned to Court, you said I wouldn't let myself love you. That's how it was with Olivia. I think I wanted to fall in love with her, to have someone of my own and dream of another life. But I knew, we both knew, that we had no future together. So my heart wouldn't let me." Francis caressed Mary's face. "It was waiting for you."

Mary was so touched she was speechless. So she simply kissed him then wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. He held her, speaking softly into her hair. "A few days ago, my biggest concern was that I had lost you to someone else. And then in the woods, I almost lost you forever. Facing our mortality made me realize what you mean to me, and I don't want another second to go by without you knowing, too."

He pulled back to look at her and said, "_You_ are my first love, Mary." The smile she gave him was radiant. "I didn't understand it when we were children," he said, "and when you were gone I told myself to ignore my feelings and focus solely on my duty. But you were right, that pure love never goes away. And when you came back, it was as if my heart had found its home."

Moved to tears, Mary cried and laughed with joy at the same time. Francis wiped the tears from her cheeks. "There's nothing I want more than to have you as my wife, Mary, my queen. But even if our time never comes, even if I'm forced to marry someone else for France, my heart will always go back to you."

"Francis." Mary thought she might burst from all the happiness and love she felt.

"You're my first love, Mary, and my last." Francis said, his eyes shining with emotion.

"And you are mine, Francis." she said ardently. "Since the day we met, until the day I die, you are my _only_ love."

They kissed, and everything else faded away. In that moment, there were no countries or treaties, no rules or responsibilities. It was just the two of them, and it was all they desired, all they needed.

Later, at the church, Mary and Francis knelt before the altar and in the sight of God, pledged themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. They were not married in name yet, and may never be, but in their hearts, they were forever one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 1: This, like the show, is a piece of historical fiction/fantasy. I tried to avoid being anachronistic, but the historical characters and story are not based on any research. I do not own Reign. Please review if you like or dislike. Thanks!

A/N 2: Finished! (Just in time to be ruined by tonight's episode yay!) I hope this story read like an "episode" of Reign that you "watch" in your head, since that's what I was going for. (Though of course I took liberties.) And if it didn't, then I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Thanks so much for reading and for the follows, favs, and reviews!

A/N 3: This chapter was inspired by _UnlessIt'sEvil_'s Reign fic "Retaliation," which you should read. A single, beautiful line about first love made me imagine this "scene." (The whole fic, really, since I wrote the "episode" to lead up to this. Hm, maybe I should have just skipped the first 6 chapters and 13,000+ words and simply done this as a one-shot? o_0) So shout-out and thanks to _UnlessIt'sEvil_!


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